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TRP: Mishka and Sam (Pampering)
Day 406, evening. Sam had slipped out of the bedroom with his satchel, lyre, and boots in his hands, pausing in the comfortable sitting room for a moment before zoning in on the couch and shooting to it. He dropped his bag on the floor and set his lyre more gently beside him on the couch, then started lacing his boots back on. COYOTE Once Mishka was done fretting over Raef, he padded up to the set of three bedrooms where he, Hansel, and Goro stayed, and then stopped in the doorway. Sam was there. Mishka was so taken aback he had to stop a moment and try to remember if this was normal. Had he expected Sam here? Was Sam supposed to be here? Had he forgotten something? When he glanced down at his location pendant, it was warm and bright. He’d been so focused on Raef he hadn’t noticed. Mishka noticed two things at once when he looked Sam over: First, that Sam was perfect and handsome and good, as always; and second, that he was lacing up his boots to leave, which was not acceptable. “Sam,” he said, delighted. IZZY Sam looked up, seeming startled, then straightened up and stopped what he was doing, dropping his laces. He brightened. "Boots. Hey." COYOTE “Where are you going?” IZZY "Uh." He looked awkward, as he often did. "I don't know. I was going to look for you, probably." COYOTE “Oh,” Mishka said, pleased and flattered. He let his enjoyment show on his face. “D’you want to stay the night?” As bribery, he said, “I’ll pet you and pay attention to you.” IZZY "Ah, pff, um." He flushed a little and glanced down. "You don't have to. I don't want to be in the way, or anything." COYOTE Mishka almost said something flirtatious— If you want to make it up to me, I can show you how— then remembered Sam didn’t like that, so instead he said, “That’s okay. You can make it up to me by paying attention to me back. That way it’s a transaction. Even Stevens.” He plopped onto the couch and picked a twig out of Sam’s hair. IZZY Sam leaned his head towards Mishka. "Hey, I found that bell." COYOTE “Did you?” Mishka said, pleased. He liked the idea of Sam having some token of his to wear in his hair, for some reason. IZZY "Yeah." He fumbled with his necklace, pulling out the glowing black opal charm, and the little silver bell jingling next to it. He looked down at it with what seemed like a muffled grin, ducked his head in embarrassment and glanced away, then back to Mishka. "Um. Anyway. I was going to pay attention to you anyway, as long as you, you know, wanted me around." COYOTE “I always want you around,” Mishka said. “Circumstances conspire to keep us apart.” He curled his arm around Sam’s waist and pulled Sam securely against him— not tightly, but lazily, happy for the casual skin contact. Sam smelled like fresh air and dirt, like he always did. “You could spend the night in my room,” Mishka said. Then added, “I want you to,” because he thought maybe it would help to be explicit, to be clear. IZZY Sam was warm. He fidgeted around and settled in next to Mishka, playing with his pendant. "That sounds, um. Good. Nice. Ah." He hunched his shoulders awkwardly for a beat, then let them down and admitted, "Listen, I sort of had this argument with Raef, over the whole ... thing with Anwyll. I feel ... bad. About being in his fucking house. I don't want to bother him. Can we just kind of hide out?" COYOTE Ah shit. “Yeah, no, of course. We can hide in my room.” He kissed Sam’s hair. “Can I convince you to take a bath, first? I can ply you with compliments and attention, if you like. Let me pamper you.” IZZY He looked embarrassed. "Oh. Sorry. Yeah, that's -- that's fine. I can do that." COYOTE Mishka began unwinding his hair from its braid, then, once he was done, began unlacing his boots. “I can come with you and show you how to treat your hair,” Mishka offered. “I can comb it and work lotion into it. You’ll like it.” He might not care about the lotion thing itself, but Mishka thought Sam would enjoy Mishka carefully washing his hair and attending to him, gently working his fingers through the knots and praising Sam for being so still and good and relaxed— carefully backing off when it was too much attention, or too much stimulation. Quiet and peaceful. “I can keep my clothes on,” Mishka added, after a moment. IZZY Sam unlaced his boots again while Mishka worked on his own boots and hair, still looking embarrassed but nodding a little. He laughed nervously when Mishka mentioned keeping his clothes on. "Uh." COYOTE “What?” Mishka said. Mishka resisted the urge to offer to show Sam his dick and explain it was a normal dick. There were lots of great times to embarrass Sam, but this was not one of them. IZZY "Uhh," he said again. "I don't know if ... uh. I'm comfortable ... mm." COYOTE “Being naked in front of people?” Mishka said. He situated himself in Sam’s lap. IZZY "Yeah," he admitted. "I know it's ... fine." He looped an arm around Mishka's waist easily. "Just ... ehhn. I mean, I want you there," he said firmly. "I want to spend time with you." COYOTE Mishka flushed a little, pleased, because it always settled him to hear I want you there stated directly, with no beating around the bush, with no manipulation or flattery. It reminded him— briefly— of the last time they’d hung out, back on Patch Island, when Sam had told him he was certain Mishka wanted to stay and offered Mishka a hand back down. He pressed his face against Sam’s neck, making a pleased noise. He supposed he would be embarrassed if Hansel or Goro walked in on them canoodling on the couch, but he supposed it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. “I can wait somewhere else while you wash,” Mishka offered. “Once you’re clean and you’re dressed, I can tend to it in a basin. I just want to pamper you, is all. Whatever that entails.” He slipped his fingers through Sam’s hair. “If you would like to try me tending to you in the bath, I won’t sexualize you or make you uncomfortable. It’s okay.” IZZY He still looked embarrassed, quickly saying, "I know. I know you won't." He bounced his leg briefly, nervous, and admitted, "I'm -- I'm trying to -- try new things. Even when they make me uncomfortable to think about. There, um." He cleared his throat, glancing down. "We can try it." COYOTE “Oh. Well good then.” Mishka gathered up his boots and Sam’s boots, then— without asking or warning Sam— cracked them both into the lower baths. He wasn’t really thinking about it; he just sort’ve wanted to be there, so he was, and with Sam, so he was. That was how his magic worked, sometimes. While he’d had the builders renovate the upstairs, he’d tweaked the baths as well. Previously they’d been a series of low, open pools in a large cave-like structure, but Mishka had the builders add low walls between them for privacy— some of them more lattice-like, some more secluded. He’d paid for glowshrooms in some areas, as well, for lighting between the glowstones, and moss, which served no purpose at all but looked soft and pretty. IZZY Sam made a quiet alarmed sound and grabbed onto Mishka, blinking around the new surroundings in surprise. He kept holding on even after he relaxed again. "Warn me before you do that." COYOTE “Oh, sorry. Sometimes I’m just sort’ve— very relaxed, and want to go somewhere, and— I’m distracted, so I don’t think about it, and— y’know what, it’s not important. Yeah, I’ll warn you.” Mishka slipped ahead, still carrying their boots in one arm, trailing his other arm behind him to keep ahold of Sam. He led Sam to a pool in the back corner, which was the most secluded. IZZY Sam followed along close to him, padding quietly and looking around the steam-filled room. "How did you end up living here, anyway? This place is fucking massive. I mean, it's a castle. How does someone just ... get ... a castle." COYOTE “Huh. You know, I don’t remember. I wasn’t there. My apprentice was, though. She gushed about it. She was quite pleased. Apparently the castle was filled with bandits who were plaguing the area so they just sort’ve killed them and took the castle. I think I asked them to? Or Joan did? Then I forged some documents and now it’s our castle.” He scratched his head. “I should probably start over. The normal way you get a castle is that you buy one. The other way to get a castle is to kill the bandits inside it and tell everyone it’s yours now.” IZZY "Huh," Sam said, nonplussed. "Huh. Okay. Good to know if I ever ... want a castle, I guess. Sounds easier than I thought." COYOTE “I’m certain your Aziz will want one. He seems fancy.” IZZY "I don't know." He sounded thoughtful, and fidgeted with his belt. "When ... when we were together, before, I think we just had a small place. An apartment, maybe. I don't remember. That's just what he told me." COYOTE “Huh.” Mishka wasn’t sure where they’d landed on him wearing clothes or not wearing clothes, so rather than ask, he began to take off his overclothes— his jacket, his belt, and the rest, keeping an eye on Sam to watch his reaction. IZZY Sam's eyes dropped, and he looked away, but untied his belt and started tugging off his tunic. He was already flushed from the warmth of the baths, so it was difficult to tell if he was more embarrassed. COYOTE Mishka debated, and ultimately decided to stay at the edge of the bath and keep his short leggings on, because he didn’t particularly need a bath anyway; he’d had one that morning. Once he was otherwise naked and comfortable, he settled on the edge with his feet in the water. He kept a small box of supplies within reach— pumice stone, various oils and lotions, various scented liquid soaps, hardened soaps with sand and grit mixed into them, and combs of various sizes. He pulled it to him and began rifling through it as Sam finished stripping. IZZY Sam dithered for a while, fidgeting behind Mishka with assorted rustling sounds. Then he went quiet, and after a beat, asked, "Can I ... Can I touch your scales?" COYOTE Mishka blinked, puzzled, drowsy from the heat and humidity of the bath. He made a small sound of approval and leaned back a little, towards Sam. IZZY Sam padded closer, and his fingers grazed lightly across the scales. He made a soft sound of wonderment and stroked them again, feeling the line where they tarnished to elfin skin with his thumb. Then he slipped down to sit beside Mishka, hands braced on the edge of the pool and hunching, slightly, like he was uncomfortable even though he'd kept his boxers on. His skin was scarred from swords and arrows, rough from callus and wear, and he was all bone and wiry muscle, a bit tense. He stole a glance at Mishka from the corner of his eye. "They're ... pretty," he said. "Your scales. I didn't know you had them." COYOTE Mishka hummed in enjoyment and pleasure, leaning comfortably against Sam. He wished Sam had petted the scales longer; he liked it. “Oh. I s’pose I forgot.” He touched Sam’s shoulder, where one of the scars was. He wondered if Sam would mind if Mishka said he was handsome, or beautiful, or if it’d be one of those things he’d heard too many times from the wrong people, something he’d shy away from. Maybe he’d try saying it later, some other time, when Sam wasn’t looking quite so naked and embarrassed and vulnerable. He didn’t want Sam to be uncomfortable. He was keenly certain of that. Once, Mishka stole a ship full of cargo from Shou Leng, and one of the things they carried was a batch of pottery. One of the pieces had been broken, but someone had put it back together, then filled the cracks with silver and gold to highlight them. Mishka thought the vase was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, and even though they sold the rest of the cargo, he kept the vase on his nightstand until the day he stole the Red Blade and sold it. Mishka thought that Sam was a bit like that vase. And he thought that maybe Pride was the one who picked up Sam’s broken pieces and carefully put them back together, filling the empty cracks with gold. Mishka looked at him a long measured moment, enjoying the sight he had not been allowed to before. The shape of him, the scars and calluses, the patches of unbroken skin where nothing had hurt him yet. Mishka wanted to lay his hands on those spots and protect them; they were few and far between. Mishka touched a very small scar on Sam’s collarbone. “D’you mind if I kiss you? Once. Briefly. On the mouth. Am I allowed to do that? Kiss you casually, I mean? When I like?” IZZY He definitely flushed at that, looking down, even as he'd leaned in a little at the gentle touches. He stole another glance at Mishka, and looked away again, and then back again. "Yeah," he said quietly, fidgeting in place a bit. "If, uh. If you ... want to. Just -- warn me first." He scooted closer to Mishka, hip to hip, his arm slipping behind Mishka's back. COYOTE Mishka kissed him, briefly, taking a moment to enjoy it: the warmth of Sam’s skin, the way Sam hesitantly kissed him back like he wasn’t entirely certain what to do, the way Sam smelled. But he made himself stop there. Held back. He was fairly certain if he kept kissing an attractive, half-naked man that he loved he was likely going to react to it— physically, that was— and Sam would probably notice, and that was likely too much right now. So Mishka took a long moment to enjoy the kiss, then dropped his hand and pulled away, settling himself. That was it. No more kisses. He kept his desire and his wanting under his skin where it belonged. And he said, “You ought to take off your clothes and get in the bath.” IZZY Sam was smiling faintly and looking down, almost shy, quietly pleased. He'd leaned into Mishka, and the hand not behind Mishka's back touched his knee tentatively, not pulling away when the kiss ended. Dew had condensed on his eyelashes. He looked back up when Mishka spoke, and swallowed, and uhh'd. "I think, uh, maybe." He glanced at the water, and the steam that fogged the air. "Um." Then he went for it, though not in the order Mishka had suggested -- slipping into the water up to his chest, fidgeting, and hesitantly bringing his now-soaked boxers back up to the edge of the pool. Then he dunked his head under entirely, and more steam rose up from the spot where he'd disappeared. COYOTE Gods above, that was fucking adorable. Mishka wrapped his arms around his legs, grinning like a loon, then took some of the exfoliating sandscrub soap out of his box and waited for Sam to emerge. IZZY Some bubbles reached the surface, and then Sam came back up for air. He shook his head, water flying out of his hair, and shook his hands off before rubbing them across his face and blinking a couple times. He came back over to the edge, staying about waist-deep and looking up at Mishka questioningly. "Are you -- are you coming in?" COYOTE “Oh. I was just going to sit here and wash your hair, honestly. I took a bath this morning.” This was nice. Pleasing. Relaxing. IZZY "Oh. Um." He grazed his fingers into his hair, immediately finding tangles. "Do you ... want to do that, then? It might take a while," he said guiltily. "I, uh. I don't really remember the last time I took care of it." COYOTE “Absolutely, yes,” Mishka said. God, Sam was going to be so fucking pretty with it fixed. “C’mere. I’ll show you how to fix it.” Now that Sam’s hair was wet, instead of shampooing it, Mishka worked in a palmful of slick oil and hair conditioner. Sam’s hair was particularly thick, and it absorbed more than Mishka expected, so he slathered more in, gently working it down to Sam’s scalp bit by bit, rubbing lightly with his fingers. He didn’t work on the tangles, yet. Instead, he let the oil and conditioner sit and sink in. His hands were slick with lotion and oil, so he used his soft, delicate hands to rub the back of Sam’s corded neck and the backs of his shoulders. While Mishka worked, he idly explained what he was doing. “We don’t want to wash it, yet. Soap will strip off all the natural oils and make it harder to untangle. First we’re going to soak it and give it time to relax, then carefully comb it. Then we’ll rinse it and wash it, once it’s all straightened out. It won’t hurt.” IZZY Sam listened quietly, relaxed under Mishka's hands, neck bent and shoulders down. He sounded pleasantly sleepy. "M'kay," he murmured. COYOTE Mishka quieted for a while, letting Sam doze as he worked— enjoying the way that Sam’s muscles slowly went loose under his fingers. Then, once it had been long enough, he selected a wide-tooth comb made of gleaming mahogany, then picked at the knots in Sam’s hair, untangling them one by one. “I met Bee,” Mishka said quietly, during a lull. “They tried to talk me into helping them stop you. From getting Pride into this world, I mean.” IZZY He nodded, then remembered to keep his head still so that his hair wouldn't move. "Yeah. I know. He told me." COYOTE “He?” IZZY "Pride." COYOTE “Oh, of course.” Mishka was almost dozing himself. “They said they were... a friend of yours. Did you— like them?” IZZY After a beat, he admitted, "Yeah." COYOTE “What if we have to fight them?” Mishka said. “D’you want us to kill them? Of would you rather let them go?” IZZY "I don't want to kill them," he said firmly. "Goro said the same thing. I don't want to kill them," he mumbled. COYOTE Mishka quieted again, a little guiltily, maybe, and then said, “I... don’t want to kill them, either. I’m— glad you don’t. I mean, I know you want to be with Pride, desperately, but— maybe it’s good, if they thought he was hurting you, that— they’d try to stop that, try to get you away from it.” He needed to stop talking. He didn’t want Pride to overhear. He didn’t want to seem doubtful. He didn’t want to offend or insult Sam. He wanted to say close, and be safe, and supportive. In case there was something wrong, so he could be there for Sam when things went badly. IZZY "Yeah," Sam said, sounding miserable. "They -- they mean well." COYOTE Mishka’s tilted Sam’s face up so he was looking at Mishka upside down. “What’s wrong?” IZZY Sam shrugged, a little. "I miss them," he admitted softly. "I know I shouldn't, but ... I want them to just ... realize they're wrong. And stop. And we can talk again." COYOTE Mishka felt a lump in his throat and tried to swallow it. “Yeah. That’s— fucking rough.” He blew out his breath. “You know, they— shouldn’t be treating you like this, even if... even if they think Pride’s hurting you.” IZZY "Yeah." Sam leaned his head back against Mishka. "I think they ... they don't know what to do. We argued a lot. They just wouldn't -- fucking listen to me, or to Aziz, and ..." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't know." COYOTE “Oh.” Mishka’s skin itched. He didn’t think anything would ever make him trust Pride with Sam, not all the way, not completely, not ever, no matter what either of them said or did. He’d always wonder if it was all an elaborate deception. Maybe that was okay, though. Maybe that was his function: to be there for Sam and keep him safe just in case. He worried, though, that Sam would hate him for it. He swallowed. “Did Pride tell you what I talked to him about? That night. When I told him about Bee.” IZZY "Um." His brow wrinkled. "I don't think so. Maybe. I don't always remember, when I wake up." COYOTE Mishka pinched his wrist absently, then caught himself, smoothed it out. He wanted to ask if Sam would still like him if he doubted Pride, but— maybe it was better to not ask, to let it lie. IZZY Sam looked up at him. "Was it important?" COYOTE Mishka shuddered. “I want to say something awful, but I don’t want you to— be angry.” He rubbed the back of his neck. That wasn’t how it worked and he fucking knew it; Sam got to be angry if it was bad. “I sort of wonder— if Bee is right, maybe— and Pride is bad, or— Pride hurt you, or is— lying to you.” IZZY Sam's face fell. COYOTE Mishka rubbed his face. “It’s complicated, but— I grew up in this place, where— everyone always lied to each other, and affection was always this elaborate game, and I was always alone, and...” It felt like he was making excuses for himself. “I feel like— I can’t tell what’s right from wrong anymore, and can’t tell genuine love and affection from blatant manipulation anymore, and...” He was just getting fucking frustrated with himself. He stopped, taking a breath, trying to figure out how to focus and say what he wanted to say smoothly, without making it Sam’s problem, without beating around the bush, without downplaying it or coming across wrong. He breathed in and out. IZZY Sam went from looking crestfallen to frowning in concern. He straightened a little, and reached up to curl his hand around behind Mishka's neck, and pull Mishka down to him, awkwardly, and loop his other arm around Mishka, too. He didn't say anything. COYOTE Mishka awkwardly slid down into the bath, because he didn’t care much about whether his leggings got wet or not, only about sitting more comfortably Sam’s arms. He felt his heart beating too quickly, and, after a moment, regained his composure and made it settle. “I don’t think I’m a very good judge of this,” Mishka said. “I think I’m the— exact wrong person to judge it, because— somebody did something like that to me, once, and I’ll always be fucking worried he’s manipulating you, no matter what he does or says.” He swallowed. “I don’t think I’m right, though. I’m not like Bee. I’m not gonna try to drag you away.” IZZY Sam was quiet, still. He held Mishka, and petted him a little, hesitantly. "Okay," he said. "I ... I'm sorry that happened to you." COYOTE “It’s fine,” Mishka said. “It’s over. I just want you to know. I’m gonna handle my paranoia better than Bee. I’ve decided to be sweet to you, and careful, because that’s how I am and how I want to be— and if your Pride ever tries to isolate you from your newfound friends, you’ll see that, and come back to us. I trust you.” IZZY "He won't," Sam said firmly. "He likes ... he likes that I have you." COYOTE Mishka winced. He wanted to say, What if he’s lying? What if something happens to me, and Goro, and anybody else close to Sam? And then we’re just more proof the world is bad. Or maybe Pride was more long-term than that. Once Sam was a demon, his friends would grow old and die around him, and eventually he’d grow tired of anyone but Pride. But he didn’t voice his doubts. He just said, “Okay. I trust your judgment,” and kissed Sam’s hair, then wiped the film off his mouth and began washing Sam’s hair out now that it was untangled. IZZY Sam seemed uneasy, but he closed his eyes, again, and quietly let Mishka work on him. COYOTE Mishka worked his fingers deep into Sam’s hair, directing him to dunk his hair under water, then applied thick soap and worked it into a lather. He washed Sam’s hair twice to get all of the oil and dirt and buildup out. By the time Mishka was done, Sam’s hair was finally clean. Really clean, all-the-way-down clean, no more knots or painful tangles, no more twigs, no more odd leaves. Then he rubbed in a small amount of fine rose oil into the lower half of Sam’s hair, the kind Mishka wore in his own hair to make it soft and smooth and keep down any frizz. Sam’s hair was thick and hearty, but soft once you washed the grime off and worked with it. The length of his hair, Mishka realized, was probably less of a fashion statement and more likely the result of apathy. Sam didn’t have long hair because it was pretty; he had long hair because he didn’t give enough fucks to pay someone to cut it. As a result, Sam had a lot of dead ends, which made his hair frizzier and more prone to tangles. Mishka kissed Sam’s shoulder. “D’you mind if I trim the ends of your hair? When you grow your hair out this long, the strands break and split, which makes it less comfortable and more difficult to manage.” Sam made a vague, puzzled sound, no doubt lulled by the warmth of the bath and by Mishka’s careful, persistent attention. When Mishka nudged him again, Sam murmured his wordless approval. . Satisfied, Mishka retrieved a small pair of sharp scissors and trimmed the last few inches of Sam’s hair, layering it so the cut still looked natural. He left the pieces in a small pile next to the bath, then rinsed off the hairs and collected them with a washcloth across the surface of the water so the hairs would not stick to them in the bath and bother them. While he worked, he pulled a small bottle of fine vodka, and fine whiskey, both of which he also kept down here. He set them aside in case Sam wanted them. Sam did not drink. He just watched Mishka retrieve the alcohol, doe-eyed, his eyes moving from Mishka’s face to the scales on back. He ignored the alcohol without giving it a further glance. He leaned into Mishka’s touch when Mishka petted him, making a small, dazed sound. Once he was done with Sam’s hair, he spent a while idly lounging in Sam’s lap, delicately removing the dirt from under Sam’s nails, filing away the sharp edges and pruning them into a soft rounded shape that Mishka found more pleasing. He smoothed over a crack he found in one nail, then carefully dried Sam’s hand with a soft towel, then filled the crack with a special golden lacquer that would strengthen the nail; then once the lacquer had hardened, he filed it ‘til it was smooth and unnoticeable, leaving a small golden line down the length of Sam’s nail. Sam dozed, at points, leaning against him. He didn’t seem tired so much as very relaxed— though, at other points, he seemed uncertain and deeply embarrassed by Mishka’s blatant affection. . When Sam seemed too overstimulated, Mishka paused a while, and simply enjoyed lounging in Sam’s arms or against his side. The baths were deep underground, and there was no real sense of time or space here. That was one thing Mishka liked about being an adventurer: They had plenty of gold from their exploits, so he had no real responsibilities and no real job duties, so if he wanted to lounge indefinitely in Sam’s arms, he pretty much could. He thought about what Sam had said earlier. I’m trying new things. Even when they make me uncomfortable. He puzzled over that a little while. He wondered if it pertained to sex as well. Sam had said, before, that it helped him sleep. He just didn’t like… people coming onto him when he didn’t want it. Didn’t like being bothered. He wondered if Sam would like that right now. If it would help him relax. Perhaps he could ask. Sam, doubtless, would turn red and stammer at the question, but maybe he’d say yes, and maybe he’d like it. He liked the idea of pampering Sam. Slicking his hand with the same rose oil he’d gently worked into Sam’s hair, then gently but firmly working it into Sam’s cock instead. Mishka could draw it out and make it good for him. He imagined the way Sam would relax, afterwards, sprawling against the edge of the bath. That would feel good. Rewarding. Mishka kissed the edge of Sam’s shoulder. Then, once he was very thoroughly done washing Sam and making sure he was completely clean— once Sam was a happy, contented lump next to him— he slipped out of the bath. Sam let out a confused sound, tilting his head to watch as though concerned Mishka was leaving him— but Mishka merely returned the untouched whiskey and vodka to their proper places and put up the soaps and oils. He offered Sam a hand up out of the bath, then, once they were both dry, he wrapped Sam in an oversized terry-cloth towel, then teleported them both to bed. END Category:Text Roleplay